


House Guests

by Catminty



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, POV First Person, tinyformers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-31 10:24:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12130425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catminty/pseuds/Catminty
Summary: A country life. Now with pint-sized invaders!Absolutely inspired byBibliotecaria_D'sDomestic Electronics. Go read that if you want to read something good. This is just my self-indulgence.





	House Guests

It was too early for whatever the heck was going on out there. There was some sort of crash out in the middle of corn field a half hour before my dawn alarm was set to go off. The high-pitched whistle preceding the crash woke me up faster than a morning shower when the pilot light was out. 

Speaking of cold, I'm glad I tugged on my thickest hoodie before heading downstairs. The chilled air wisping through the cracks in the doggie door made me shiver. September weather in the country was usually pretty nice, but not before at least eight or nine in the morning. I tugged on my boots and made my way outside to check out the noise.

Loud noises weren't all that common out in the middle of nowhere, with farm fields as far as the eye could see. It could have been a car crash, if the sound had come from the road. The thin trail of smoke wafting up from one of the corn fields suggested otherwise. Did one of the Miller kids crash a four-wheeler? 

Whatever it was that crashed, it wasn't a four-wheeler. In fact, it didn't have any wheels as far as I could tell. The rounded, rectangular metal frame was about the size of a van, dented on all sides, positively caked in mud from last night's rain, and charred beneath the grimy surface. There was a thirty foot stretch of torn up land behind it. Guess it crashed, whatever it was. 

Maybe a plane lost part of it's cargo? I looked it up and down, hesitant. It didn't look like a shipping container I'd ever seen.

Gingerly, I stepped around the metal box and searched for any clues to what it might be. One clear patch of metal revealed that one part, at least, had a small pane of glass. Peering inside, I saw what looked like two sets of miniature bunk beds and a little door. 

Huh.

A light breeze blew by, rustling the stumps of the harvested corn stalks and drying roughage. A buzzing sound zipped overhead. Clicks and chitters faded somewhere to my right.

Uh. I mean. I've seen Signs enough times to be weirded out by strange noises in the corn fields. But, considering all that was left after the harvest was foot-tall corn stalk stumps, I wasn't as nervous as I might be in, say, late July. Late July is when the corn is more horror-movie-esque. I eyed the strange box and backed away slowly.

The sun was just peeking above the skyline. I squinted as the light bounced off of something small and metallic embedded in the mud of the field. Curious, I squatted down to investigate.

It looked like an arm. A little metal arm? Oh, it moved. Flailed, really. Whatever it was, it was stuck in the mud. I grabbed an old, stiff corn stalk to serve as a pseudo-stick and held it within reach of the flailing limb. The flailing limb bumped the stick, then wrapped itself around it and pulled. Slowly, a little head broke free, then another arm that immediately latched onto the dried plant. 

It looked like a toy, but a heck of a lot more limber. Like a little robot. It wiggled and pulled and strained against the sticky mud holding it prisoner. I stayed still, silently watching it heave and pant between little bouts of attempts to dislodge itself.

Minutes dragged on. My lips thinned as I considered my options. Whatever this thing was, it wouldn't be able to get out on its own. Was it safe to touch? Would it bite? It had a mouth. Teeth were unconfirmed, and it would be preferable that they stayed unconfirmed. I've had enough experiences being bitten by strange animals to last a lifetime. 

I eyed the metal box and the little room it could probably fit comfortably in. This ship– No, not even gonna consider that option. This ship _ment_ probably fell out of a plane. Maybe it was some rich kid's plaything lost en route. Or military tech. Hopefully not military tech. They might tear up the field retrieving all their supplies. 

The little thing stopped flailing and wheezed. I bit my lip. It almost seemed exhausted. Like it was a struggling chick trying to hatch.

I pulled my hands in the sleeves of my hoodie and slowly reached toward the robot. It's eyes–red and glowing–locked onto me as if it just realized I was there. My hands hovered close but didn't quite touch. "It's alright," I soothed, hoping it wouldn't try to bite or claw me, "I'm just going to get you out. Okay?"

The bot looked at my hands, and then at the corn stalk it was still holding. Its eyes trailed the length of the stalk to the other end that was resting against my knee. Those bright red eyes squinted, as though it was considering whether or not to trust me. Huffing softly, it dropped the end of the stalk and reached out for my hands.

My grip was loose under its arms as I carefully scooped the bot out of the mud. I crab walked to a dry-ish patch of dirt and set the robot down on it's feet. 

Face scrunching, I mourned the death of my soft and toasty hoodie, sacrificed to the filth gods for the sake of the itty bitty in front of me. At least I did something nice. I think? My good deed was done for the day. I stood and dusted off my jeans. The little robot blinked up at me, then looked down at itself and grumbled in those soft clicks I heard earlier. It took a jerky step forward, then promptly fell flat on its face. 

Erm. I mean. I've heard of stories like this before. I've done my good deed by getting the little guy out. There was no reason for me to do any more than that. 

Do you know what happens to people that help out more than they need to? They end up with a cat. This was exactly how you end up with a cat. Or something. I already have a cat. Mrs. Snickerdoodle is more than enough cat for me, and she came with the farm. Besides, this thing doesn't even have fur!

I immediately took a step backwards.

The all of six inch tall robot awkwardly turned itself over. It couldn't bend what I'm guessing were mud-caked knees. 

I took another step back and raised my hands in the air. Nope! Nothing I can do! No help here!

Those bright red eyes flicked to me, then down to its legs. Of all things possible, it grimaced.

I was on my knees, carefully trying to wipe away the yuckies before my brain even caught up to what my body was doing. The bot blinked up at me like it was also confused about my sudden course of action. My muddy hoodie wasn't really doing any more than smearing the mud around.

Sighing, I rubbed my temple. Fine. I'd help it get cleaned up. After that, I swear this thing would be on its own. 

Gently, I cupped the little robot with my dirty sleeves. "I'm gonna pick you up again. Alright?"

It blinked up at me slowly. Which was actually kind of surprising. I mean, most robots have plastic or glass eyes and don't blink. The inventors that do try to make their creation blink often end up with creepy, murder-doll designs. This thing didn't give off the same vibe.

The little bot gripped my hoodie sleeves when I nestled it to my chest. The bright light behind its eyes tracked across the open field as I began the trudge back to the house. 

One thing I loved about my house was the mudroom. It was right next to the washer and dryer, and there was a nice, deep sink right by the back door. I could come in after a hard day's work, toss my boots in the sink to rinse off the mud, and throw my filthy clothes directly in the wash.

The sink would be perfect to wash off the little guy. I pulled the trash bag out of the laundry room's miniature, wire waste bin. Turned upside-down, it served as a perfect platform in the sink. The bot stayed still when I sat him down. Good. I pushed the faucet to the side and turned the water to lukewarm so it could warm up. That would give me just enough time to throw my hoodie in the wash.

I shot a quick glance at my little houseguest to make sure he was still on the basket. It was trying to bend its legs again, without success.

This...thing. Was it a thing? It looked kind of natural. Almost like it was an animal instead of a little hunk of metal. Its inventor must be some kind of super engineer. I started the wash and grabbed a roll of paper towels and a brush. Erm. Was it waterproof?

Hurriedly, I rushed back to the sink and found the robot extending its leg into the stream of water. I grabbed him out of the sink. 

"Uh." Was it waterproof? Would it be dead already if it wasn't? Would I be dead from electrocution if he wasn't? The robot looked up at me and raised an eyebrow. "Sorry? I mean. You sure this won't void your factory warranty or anything?"

Without breaking eye contact, it pointed to the water and made three distinct clicks. With the utmost care, I set it back on the edge of the wire platform and watched as it raised its leg. It continued to stare at me as the water flowed around its armor and get deeper under its plating. Then, it bent its knee partially. 

Huh. Guess water was okay. 

"Do you need any help?" I offered dumbly. It glanced up at the trickle of water, brow furrowed. "What about–" I shift the faucet nozzle an inch closer. "This? Need more?"

It pushed itself awkwardly to its feet and motioned for me to keep going. I directed the nozzle over half of the basket and turned on a shower spray. The robot perked up, mumbling in quiet clicks and chips. It hobbled under the spray and started scrubbing itself in earnest. 

Again, I was hit with a weird feeling at how alive it's actions were. It wiggled and twisted under the spray like a little person trying to get clean after a day out in the mud. Then there was the whole "I got this, stupid" thing. I offered the toothbrush, which it gladly used to scrub between the plating on its legs. I grabbed another jacket while it cleaned itself.

The water swirled down the drain with ever increasing clarity. When the water ran clear, it stepped out of the steam and flapped it's armor plating like a bird would fluff its feathers. I offered a paper towel square and watched it roughly pat itself dry. It tossed the damp remnants into the basin and turned to me expectantly. When I didn't move, it raised its arms.

"Let's get you back to. Erm. Your box, I guess?" I picked it up with one hand and turned off the water with the other. It wiggled in my loose grip and crawled into my kangaroo pocket. I looked down at it. Glowing red eyes looked back up. "Guess that works."

We made our way back out to the weird box in the field. It stopped smoldering, which was good. I looked down and saw the robot's silver head peeking out. It was muttering to itself again.

Mindful of the mud, I knelt down by the ship. "You ready to go?" It looked up at me, so I pointed to the ground. "I mean. It was fun and all, but I've gotta go take care of the animals. The hens will revolt if I don't get them breakfast soon." I held my hand flat, palm up in front of my pocket for it to step onto. It looked at my hand. It looked at the silver box. It nodded once and let me help it to the ground. By the time I was standing, it was already walking around the box as if surveying it. 

"Right." I nodded to myself as well. "Don't forget to turn on your GPS, or something." It paid me no mind. I blinked. That...actually turned out better than expected. We parted ways on mutual terms. It can survive on its own, I get points for helping out something in need, _and_ I don't get a clingy house guest. Awesome.

Turning, I hurried away from the crash site to tend to my miffed animals. Yikes. It was almost nine. There might be an actual revolt in the hen house if I don't get them their food.

An angry little whir zoomed behind my head. I swatted around my hair at empty air. Weren't most horseflies dead already? Guess not.

The robot would be fine on its own. I doubt I'll ever see it again. 

I hustled a little faster, eager to put the morning's events behind me.


End file.
